


Nor All Thy Piety Nor Wit

by Anonymous



Category: Voynich Manuscript (Book)
Genre: F/F, POV First Person, prisoner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 17:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17027358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Locked in a tower, the author transcribes amazing lessons from another realm, but she has a plan of her own.





	Nor All Thy Piety Nor Wit

I could sit for hours listening to the cadences of this language, rising and falling like the wings of seabirds. Understanding took me time, but time is all I have here in my high tower, ever since my brother locked me away. He thought he would leave me alone except for the crash of the waves and the call of the birds, no human voice to hear save the faraway voices at prayers. My food is slipped under the grill in the door by a servant who has not spoken to me once in twenty years, nor did his predecessor for ten more. I might have gone mad, had I been alone.

My friend comes to visit me at night, walking through the tall mirror on my wall. She is breathtaking, an angel if such creatures exist, liminal and lithe, and speaking to me in a tongue I learned only slowly. The ethereal tones make rough, human speech blush for shame. I spend each night with her, and by the thin sunlight at my window the following day, I record what she has shown me.

She has taught me so much.

On her Earth, different flowers bloom. Medicines cure the sick. Humans travel into the very stars. Women who know the pleasures of other women are not locked into towers by their sallow, jealous brothers who caught them with their mouths pressed against full white breasts and their fingers splaying into wet heat. On my friend's Earth, everything is made of wonder.

He will never set me free. My only choices are to cast myself from my window, or to cut myself to ribbons as I pass through the mirror to join her.

It will be the mirror.

My hair is gray as iron. My eyes cloud as I draw the shape of another leaf. My masterpiece must soon be finished. But he will never have it. I have written my great work in her language, the language beyond the stars, in flowing letters of my own creation. Beyond the mirror, I will kiss her fey lips and love her, laughing at the fools I've left behind to be mystified by my disappearance and foiled by my last mystery. Wisdom, beauty, truth, all these are captured and no matter how many wise men he brings to decipher my book, no matter how he begs and rages, my brother will never be able to read a single word.


End file.
